Garden Of Friendship
by Lil' Signing Angel
Summary: Even though society plants barriers between people to keep them apart, it takes a talented gardener to know how to trim them up right. Please R&R! Ch.8 Now Up!
1. Secrets

**Even though society plants barriers between people to keep the apart, it takes a good gardener to know how to trim them up right**  
  
:~:  
  
Frodo Baggins sat idly on the low branch of a tall tree that was on the top of a high hill. From his place, he could see the vast landscape of Hobbiton and the Shire. He could see Bag End, where he lived with his Uncle Bilbo Baggins. Frodo had only been 12 years old when his cousin Bilbo adopted him after his parents tragically died. Frodo was Bilbo's cousin a few times over but because of their tremendous age difference, Frodo referred to him as 'Uncle'.  
  
Most of the Shire thought Bilbo to be a very odd Hobbit. Being one who never married and goes off on adventures with Dwarves and Wizards gave him a bit of a bad reputation which was now leaking over onto Frodo. Frodo was still quite young, only 25 years old, still 8 years away from his Coming-Of- Age. He didn't have much of an opinion of what people thought of him, though many of the rumors were rather strange.  
  
Looking around, it seemed that everyone was busy at work. Frodo had work to do too, but not like most other Hobbits. Bilbo had been teaching Frodo a number of skills, such as how to read and speak Elvish and a bit of Dwarvish. He was supposed to be studying that at the very moment, but as soon as Bilbo had fallen asleep, he made a dash for the round, green door.  
  
Looking out again towards Bag End, Frodo shielded his eyes from the sun and squinted so that he could see well. For a minute, he thought he saw someone in the garden. It was probably the Gaffer, checking on the roses, as usual.  
  
No, it couldn't be the Gaffer, since he has slowed down quite a bit the past years and the figure was moving to quickly around the beautiful and well maintained garden. It must be Samwise, the Gaffer's youngest son. Samwise was 12 years younger then Frodo but they still got along well. Jumping down from the branch, Frodo took off at a light run down the lane towards Bag End.  
  
:~:  
  
Samwise Gamgee was busy in Bag End's beautiful garden. Kneeling down next to the blooming daisies and tulips, he moved the cool, fresh earth around. Surveying his work, he was about to get up and leave, when he spotted a bit of Kingsfoil growing out of the earth.  
  
If there was one thing Sam could not stand, it was weeds in his gardens. Well, it wasn't exactly his garden. Sam's father, the Gaffer, worked for Mr. Bilbo Baggins and now that Sam was old enough, he could help. Sam loved working in the garden. He would spend all day out there if he could.  
  
The Gaffer was home having afternoon tea when Sam pulled the bit of Kingfoil from the rich soil around it. He decided that, with his chores around Bag End done, he deserved a little break.  
  
So, moving around to the side of Bag End, Sam sat down, leaning his back against the fence. He closed his eyes and let the warm sun heat him. He would only rest for a few minutes then he had to finish his other chores at home. That's right, just a few . . .  
  
:~:  
  
Frodo had just about reached Bag End when he thought he heard something. It was like a low growling from a small animal. Not sure what it could be, he slowly and carefully approached Bag End. Sam was no where to be seen but the sound continued. Looking around cautiously, Frodo slowly eased open the gate so as not to let is squeak. Not noticing anything out of the ordinary, Frodo was about to brush the incident off as a figment of his imagination.  
  
That is, until, he saw a pair of furry feet sticking out from the other side of Bag End. Slowly sneaking in the direction of the feet, Frodo peered around the corner and had to quickly stifle a laugh from escaping his lips. There was the source of the growling; young Samwise Gamgee, taking a nap.  
  
Knowing that the Gaffer could be back any minute now, Frodo decided that it was for the best to wake the sleeping hobbit. The Gaffer could be quite hard on the young lad and Frodo didn't want to see Sam getting into unneeded trouble. So, very slowly so as not to make much noise, Frodo made his way over to the sleeping Sam and knelt down besides him. Laying a hand on his shoulder, Frodo gently shook him.  
  
"Sam. Sam, wake up." Frodo whispered just loud enough. Sam stirred a bit, but only brushed Frodo's hand away sleepily.  
  
"Leave me alone, Halfred." Sam mumbled under his breath. Frodo sighed. This is what he gets for not having any siblings. After another attempt at shaking Sam awake, Frodo was beginning to wonder what else he could do. He didn't want Sam getting in trouble with . . .  
  
"Sam!" A loud voice echoed. "Samwise, where are ya?" It was the Gaffer! Frodo knew that Sam would be in BIG trouble if the Gaffer caught him sleeping, especially with Frodo around.  
  
"Sam, please wake up." Frodo pleaded as loud as he dared without the Gaffer hearing.  
  
"Samwise Gamgee!" The Gaffer called again. Sam jolted out of his state of sleep at the commanding sound of his name. He jumped so far, that Frodo leaned back so as not to get hit. With his brown eyes wide with fright, Sam looked around franticly.  
  
"M...Mr. Frodo, I...I..." Sam stammered out as his gaze landed on Frodo. But Frodo raised a hand to silence him.  
  
"Just play along." Frodo ordered. Just at that moment, the Gaffer turned the corner and found Sam and Frodo sitting on the ground next to the fence.  
  
"So THAT'S how you plant those beautiful roses." Frodo said louder then necessary. Sam looked quickly from his father, whose large shadow was now cast over him, to Frodo. Frodo looked at Sam with a sort of pleading glance, so Sam nodded, not saying a word. "Oh, hallo Gaffer." Frodo said innocently, looking up at the large, gruff hobbit.  
  
"Sam was just explaining to me how you make the roses of Bag End grow so wonderfully." The Gaffer narrowed his gaze on his youngest son, who seemed to shrink back a bit. "I asked him to." Frodo added quickly. "I had always been so curious about it and since Sam had finished his chores, I thought now was a better time then ever."  
  
"Well, Mr. Frodo, if you're ever interested in the ways of gardening, you know who to go to." The Gaffer said stiffly.  
  
"Yes, I do." Frodo answered.  
  
"Now, if you don't have anymore questions, Sam here needs to be getting home to finish his other chores." Jumping to his feet quickly at the mention of his name, Sam looked again from his father to Frodo.  
  
"I understand." Frodo said. "If it is alright with you, I would like it if Sam could assist me with one last thing before he returns home."  
  
"Of course, Mr. Frodo." The Gaffer answered a bit unconvincingly. "Sam, you come straight home when you are finished here, understand?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Sam replied, bowing his head. So, with one last glance, the Gaffer walked off down the lane towards #3 Bagshot Row.  
  
"Why . . . why did you say that, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked when he was sure his father was far out of ear shot. Frodo looked at the young hobbit with shinning eyes.  
  
"Because, Sam, I didn't want you to get into trouble."  
  
"But...but..." Sam really wasn't sure what was going on. All he knew was one minute he was sitting there, resting his eyes, imagining himself visiting the elves; seeing the never aging, ever wise elves of the woods.  
  
It felt so real, like there was an elf standing over him; a young elf with dark hair and deep, blue eyes, just like Mr. Frodo.  
  
MR. FRODO!  
  
It was a dream! He had fallen asleep! 'Oh how could you, Samwise Gamgee', Sam mentally scolded himself.  
  
"Don't worry Sam. This will be our little secret." Frodo said, placing his hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam stared at Frodo for a minute, not really sure what to think. Then, finally, he relaxed his shoulders and sighed.  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Frodo." He said gratefully. Frodo smiled.  
  
"What's a little secret between friends?" Frodo asked, and Sam let out a little laugh. 


	2. Shadows

:~:  
  
The following day, just as Sam was preparing to head up to Bag End, his father caught him by the arm.  
  
"I don't know what happened yesterday, but I have a feeling that it had nothin' to do with the roses." The Gaffer held his son's fore arm tightly. "Now you listen and listen good; if I ever hear of you doin' anythin' but your job up there at Bag End, so help me, you'll never go back there again." Sam couldn't bring himself to look at his father until that point. His eyes grew wide with fright.  
  
"But...but da'," Sam sputtered out. "I wasn't doin' anything else. I was just weedin', that's all." The Gaffer studies his youngest son for a moment before he spoke again.  
  
"Well, just make sure it stays that way. Those Bagginses are. . ."  
  
"Da! How could you say anythin' bad about Mr. Bilbo or Mr. Frodo?! They've been nothin' but kind to us!" Sam shouted before he realized what he was doing.  
  
"Don't you be raisin' your voice to me." The Gaffer threatened. "I was only goin' say that they're your superiors; your employers. It ain't right to be actin' as equals with them. I though I taught you better then that!"  
  
"But Da!"  
  
"But nothin'! We've a job to do and you'll not be putting food on this table by socializing, especially with your betters." With this, the Gaffer finally released Sam's arm. Sam stumbled back but quickly recovered his footing.  
  
"Now, get goin' 'fore I make ya stay home and work with me." With that last threat still ringing in his ears, Sam fled from #3 Bagshot Row and ran up the lane to Bag End.  
  
:~:  
  
Frodo was in his bed room, sitting at his desk. Sighing heavily, he looked out the window. The sun was shinning brightly and a little robin was perched on a tree branch, singing its sweet song to the world. It was on days like this that Frodo was most depressed.  
  
Now, most hobbits would say that days like this were their favorites; a day for gardening, or taking a walk or going on a picnic, complete with all 3 courses. But Frodo had his own reasons. It was on days like this that his parents would take him for a walk around the Shire.  
  
They would walk and walk, not usually having a destination in mind. Just walking, taking in the beautiful scenery and talking about every little thing. Most of the times, these walks would turn into rides for young Frodo, who so often 'got tired' and would wind up on his fathers back or on his shoulders.  
  
When they would stop, his mother would spread out the blanket and the three of them would sit in down on a hill or under a tree and just enjoy the beautiful day. It was then that his mother would start to sing. She would sing one of Frodo's favorite lullabies that she used to sing him to sleep to. Many times, it still worked and he would fall asleep, curled in his mother's lap or safe in his father's strong arms.  
  
On the way home, after a little nap, his father would tell him stories of his childhood and the mischief he would get into. Frodo always asked for the same story, would laugh at the same parts and his mother would always comment, 'Now don't be giving him any ideas'. For 12 years they lived happily, thinking it would never end.  
  
But one evening, it did. His father had always been fascinated with boats, even though Hobbits have traditionally been ones to stay away from water. He had spent many hours reading books about boats and the art of sailing. One night, after supper, Frodo's father decided he wanted to go out and try sailing. Frodo's mother, not a fan of the idea, decided that maybe she should go with him.  
  
Neither one returned home that evening, nor the next morning. Frodo awoke to find his house filled with relations, though none of them were his parents. To have to hear that your parents drowned during the night at the tender age of 11 years was devastating to Frodo and he never really recovered from the shock. Bilbo had rescued him from Brandy Hall and gave him a proper home at Bag End.  
  
And now, 13 years later, Frodo still feels the pain of loneliness on day's like this. His heart has never really healed and he doesn't believe it ever will.  
  
Just then, a shadowy figure passed by the window. Jumping slightly out of surprise, Frodo stood up and looked out into the garden. A long shadow was cast across the flowers on the window ledge, leaving them in darkness. Though it was a good sized window, the source that blocked the sun was not within Frodo's sight, though he would take 3 guesses as to who it was.  
  
:~:  
  
Sam was wandering between the flower beds, double checking for weeds. The sun was shining brightly with not a cloud in the sky. Looking down, Sam realized how dry the soil really was. Hobbiton hadn't had a good rain in some time, and the plants were starting to show it. Rushing over to the garden shed, he pulled out the large watering can then made his way over to the water pump.  
  
Even though he knew what he should be doing, Sam's mind began to wonder. His thoughts were on what his father had told him earlier, about how Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo were his betters and he had no rights to be actin' as equals with them. Now, Sam knew his father was right, but only believed it to a point. What was wrong with being nice and just talking with Mr. Frodo? Sam just didn't understand.  
  
Mr. Frodo seemed to always have sadness in his eyes. Sam knew that his parents had died when he was young, that's why he came to Hibbiton, to live with Mr. Bilbo. When Sam was with Frodo, the sadness seemed to leave, and was replaced with pure happiness. What was wrong with keeping his Master happy?  
  
As these thoughts are going through his head, the already filled watering can was overflowing all over Sam's hand and onto the ground. A small puddle was forming near his feet when a shadow crept up behind him cast and itself over Sam.  
  
*To Be Continued...* 


	3. Tears

NOTE: I do not write slash. I'm sorry if anything appears to be slash, but I can assure you that it is just the way I write. I praise Tolkien for his accomplishments and can only say that anyone who sees _his_ work as dirty has a dirty mind to begin with.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
"Sam?"  
  
Sam nearly jumped out of his skin. Dropping the watering can with a heavy 'thud' (just barely missing his toes!), the frightened Sam turned around quickly, putting his hands up in a sort of defensive move. The culprit of Sam's shock took a step backward, staring wide-eyed at him.  
  
That was the first thing Sam saw; those large blue eyes. Although now they seemed different. The happiness that had once occupied them was gone, replaced with deep sorrow. They were red and puffy, as if a waterfall of tears had flowed out of them.  
  
"Frodo!" Sam exclaimed then bit his tongue. His father's words echoed in his head; "It ain't right to be actin' as equals with them."  
  
Frodo smiled. 'Frodo'; just Frodo. He had never heard Sam call him that before, but he liked it, even if it was out of shock. Sam was always so formal with him, even though Frodo thought that they were good friends. He wished Sam would agree think of him as a friend, not an employer.  
  
"Mr. Frodo." He quickly corrected. "I...I'm sorry sir. I mean't no disrespect, I was just..." He bent over to pick up the watering can as evidence.  
  
"Sam, please," Frodo said placing his hand on Sam's shoulder, "let me help."  
  
"No! No it's ok Mr. Frodo, sir. I got it." Sam hurriedly picked up the heavy watering can. "I was just off to water the plants. There ain't been rain for some time and they are beginnin' to dry out, if you follow me, sir."  
  
There he goes again with the formalities.  
  
"Sam, let me help you. You've been working really hard lately and . . ." Frodo took another look at the young hobbit before him. He seemed tense. Something was wrong. "Sam? Is everything ok?"  
  
"What? Oh, yes sir, fine." Sam answered quickly, hauling the watering can to where the Lilly of the Valleys were planted. He began to give every plant a generous dose of the clear, cool liquid that they so desperately needed. Frodo simply stood by and watched as Sam sped through his task at hand. Occasionally, Sam would glance over his shoulder, to see if Frodo was till there then would quickly return to his watering.  
  
This was very unusual for Sam. Frodo had watched him work in the garden many, many times before and he had always noticed the special care and attention that he gave each plant. Watching him now, rushing around from flower bed to flower bed, dumping water into the dry soil; it bothered Frodo. What was wrong with him and why would he not just say it?  
  
When Sam had finished and replaced that watering can in the shed, he began to think of anything else he could do to keep busy working. But looking around the garden, he saw that he had accomplished every thing already. The flower bed were weeded and watered, the rose bush was trimmed and . . . and . . .  
  
Frodo was still standing by the water pump. Why was he still there? Sam was beginning to worry that Frodo was angry at him. Otherwise, why would he be just standing there, staring at him? Just then, Frodo began walking towards him, a strange look in his eyes.  
  
'Oh, no. Here is comes,' Sam thought, bracing himself for the worse.  
  
"Sam, I need to talk to you." Frodo said, approaching the nervous gardener.  
  
"T...talk to me, sir?" Sam repeated in almost incoherently.  
  
"Yes. Come on, let's sit down." Frodo suggested as he urged Sam over to one of the garden benches. Sam hesitantly followed his Master, yet remained standing when Frodo sat down.  
  
"Come now Sam, sit." Frodo said, moving over to make room for Sam on the bench.  
  
"No, no thank you, sir. I think I'll just stand." Sam replied, taking a firm sort of stance and lowering his gaze to the fresh, green grass under his feet.  
  
"Sam, look at me." Frodo said. Sam barely lifted his eyes. The second they met Frodo's, he lowered them again. 'Why would he not just get it over with?' Sam thought.  
  
"Sir, I...I..." Sam wasn't sure exactly what he was going to say, but he felt he had to say something. "I don't know what I did, but...but what ever it was, I can..." There was an awkward pause that Frodo broke after a moment.  
  
"My dear Sam, you think you're in trouble?" Frodo asked surprised at what was being said. He couldn't help but laugh a little bit, although it seemed dry and with out emotion. "No, no, no. I simply wanted to ask you if you would mind to accompanying me this afternoon. Bilbo has gone off to Brandy Hall for a week and it's a bit lonely here." This he added with a more serious tone.  
  
Sam blinked. That was it? Sam quickly looked into Frodo's eyes. They were sad again. A dark loneliness covered the usual joy in Frodo's eyes that Sam would see when they were together. What was wrong with him?  
  
"Mr. Frodo? Is something wrong, sir?" Taking a cautious step forward, Sam placed his brown, worked hand on Frodo's delicately framed shoulder. Frodo had always been rather thin for a hobbit and Sam was afraid if he put too much pressure on him, Frodo would break under the weight of his hand!  
  
Frodo suddenly put his hands up to his face, shielding the tears flowing from his already red eyes. Under Sam's hand, Frodo's shoulder shook with every sob that came almost silently from the sad hobbit. Sam quickly pulled his hand away and stared. Had he said something?  
  
"Mr. Frodo? What is it? What's wrong?" Sam asked quickly regaining his senses. Instead of pulling away, he should be comforting his poor master. Taking a seat on the bench next to Frodo, Sam wrapped his arm around his shoulders, holding him tightly. "Don't worry, Mr. Frodo, your Sam's here." Sam whispered into Frodo's dark curls.  
  
After an unknown about of time, Frodo's shoulders finally stopped shaking and he slowly lifted his head. Once again, his eyes were red and swollen; his rather pale cheeks were streaked with salted tears. Sam looked at him again. The sadness was slowly easing itself out of his eyes as the happiness crept back in. Sam couldn't help but let a tiny smile curl his lips. It was then, when Frodo finally spoke again.  
  
"I...I'm sorry, Sam." He said in a coarse, worn out voice. "I've been thinking a lot about my...my parents." His voice trailed to nothing more then a whisper. "You know, it's been 13 years but I still miss them so much."  
  
Now Sam understood perfectly. He, himself had lost his own mother only 5 years ago and he still could feel the pain. But he could only imagine how poor Frodo was feeling, having lost BOTH his parents at the same time and at such a young age too!  
  
"It's alright, Mr. Frodo." Sam cooed.  
  
Frodo took in a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down. A sense of embarrassment suddenly came rushing over him. Here he was, half way through his tween years and he still breaks down crying like a child. And in front of Sam, who was still a child himself! Frodo couldn't help but feel ashamed of himself.  
  
"I'm being ridiculous. I'm sorry Sam. I shouldn't be troubling you with my nonsense. You must have better things to do then to listen to me." With this, Frodo heaved himself up from the bench and out of a surprised Sam's grasp. Running a small handkerchief across his eyes, Frodo shook his head to clear his thoughts. He looked around and saw Sam still sitting on the bench, smiling warmly.  
  
"No, sir. You are not being ridiculous. You have every right to...to..." Sam didn't really know how to put it without upsetting Frodo again. "To remember the good times you had with them. That's what I do when I miss my ma. I just think of all the great times we had together." Sam's eyes began to tear up a bit at the though of his mother.  
  
"Thank you, Sam. I know you will always be there for me when I truly need you." Frodo said gratefully. He then turned around and headed back indoors. Before he entered Bag End, another shadow covered him. Turning around, he saw Sam standing behind him; his hands behind his back and his head down.  
  
"Um...Mr. Frodo, sir? If...if you still want me to...I mean, if you would like, I could..."  
  
"Would you like to come in, Sam?" Frodo interrupted, knowing Sam would never stop unless Frodo said something.  
  
"Only if it is alright with you, sir." Sam replied.  
  
"Only on one condition." Frodo said.  
  
"Condition?" Sam repeated, beginning to get nervous.  
  
"Yes, that you call me Frodo, and nothing else."  
  
"I'll try Mist...Frodo." Sam said, though a bit shakily.  
  
"Well then, come on in." Frodo said as he opened the back door to Bag End and entered, followed closely by Sam, who closed the door behind him. 

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:-: AouraMaiden :-:


	4. Company

Ch. 4  
  
Sam always liked Bag End. Ever since he was very young, he would follow his father up to the smial at the top of the hill. When ever he walked though that round, green door, it was like entering another world. A world full of elves and dwarves and dragons and wizards. A world full of adventure and excitement.  
  
Mr. Bilbo, who was in the process of teaching Sam how to read and write, would also tell Sam the stories of his adventures with Gandalf and Thorin's company; traveling far out of the Shire, (which very few hobbits did) through Mirkwood and to the Lonely Mountain. Sam would always ask to hear the parts specifically about the elves. He was fascinated with ever- immortal, incredibly wise, never aging elves of Middle-Earth and dreamed of the day when he would finally meet one!  
  
:-:  
  
Once inside, Frodo headed right for the kitchen, as it was habit with most hobbits, with Sam following close behind. Stirring the fire a bit, Frodo began to put some tea on. He was grateful that Sam had agreed to join him. A strange heaviness had been plaguing Frodo for some weeks now, and it has worsened since Bilbo had left only 2 days ago. What made things even harder was the fact that Frodo would be all alone in Bag End for another 2 weeks, unless Bilbo decided to come back early. But knowing Bilbo, he had other places to visit other then his relatives.  
  
The tea kettle whistled shrilly, bringing Frodo back from his thoughts. He realized that he was sitting at the kitchen table, which was nicely set for 1. Glancing around, he caught the last glimpse of Sam, as he turned the corner and headed in the direction of the pantry. A minute later, Sam re-appeared, his arms willed with various foods and snacks and quickly began arranging them on the table in front of Frodo.  
  
The screaming tea pot was increasing the pain that was growing in Frodo's head. He got up to remove it from the fire, when Sam quickly came up behind him and gently pushed him aside.  
  
"I got that, Mr. Frodo. You just sit down." Sam ordered as he grabbed the tea cloth next to the hearth and took the kettle from the flame. Placing it gently on the table, he quickly poured the hot content into Frodo's cup.  
  
Then, taking a plate from the table, Sam began to fill it with the assorted goodies that he had pulled from the pantry. When he was satisfied with the display, the set the overflowing plate back in front of Frodo, and pushed the tea in closer.  
  
"There you go, Mr. Frodo." Sam announced. Frodo looked at the plate and cup then to Sam. The young hobbit stood humble on the other side of the table. His eyes were focused intently on something near his foot and his hands were behind his back, fingers obviously fidgeting.

:-:  
  
Frodo suddenly had a flash back to when he was living at Brandy Hall. Being so large, Brandy Hall was fully equipped with an army of servants to take care of everything from laundry, to preparing meals, to tending the amazingly large garden. Frodo's parents had always taught him to treat every hobbit with respect, no matter what their station. It seemed that those living at Brandy Hall were not taught the same.  
  
On a number of occasions, Frodo had witnessed members of his own family harassing and treating servants without the slightest bit of respect. Once, he had even seen one of his 3rd cousins slap a poor, young Proudfoot lass. She had tripped while carrying a tray with afternoon tea on it. Frodo couldn't help remember the way the servants at Brandy Hall would stand there; with their sad, downcast eyes and withdrawn composure.  
  
Now Sam was looking the exact same way! Here he was, Frodo Baggins, just sitting there while poor Sam worked himself to the bone. Well that was about to end. Frodo would not let this injustice go unchanged!  
  
"Come on Sam. There's more then enough for both of us here. Sit down and join me." Frodo said, standing from his chair and walking to the other side of the table. Pulling out the vacant seat across from his own, Frodo turned to Sam and smiled.  
  
Sam looked wearily at the table laden with food. He was hungry, since he didn't have time to get second breakfast at home and didn't dare ask for elevensees at Bag End; not after what happened with his father that morning. It was just about lunch time and he could feel his stomach beginning to protest the wait. He wanted so badly to sit down and enjoy the meal....  
  
But if his father found out! Sam took a sudden step away from the inviting chair, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. No. He knew his place and it was not in that chair.  
  
"No...no thank you, Mr. Frodo. I'm really not hungry." Sam lied. The problem was his stomach chose that exact moment to make itself known. Frodo knew that Sam was lying, even if his poor stomach hadn't given him away.  
  
Like most hobbits, Sam enjoyed all 7 meals of the day. It was then that Frodo realized that Sam had never come into Bag End for elevensees, which they would usually have together, and with Bilbo, when he was around. It was unlike Sam to miss a meal. Now he was SURE there was something the matter.  
  
"Don't lie to me, Samwise Gamgee." Frodo said, a bit more sternly then he had intended. Sam recoiled slightly from the tone of Frodo's voice. He couldn't remember the last time Frodo spoke like that to him. "Now sit down and have something to eat."  
  
Sam wasn't sure if he was more afraid of not honoring Frodo's order or of his father finding out. After a moment of internal debate, he decided that his father wouldn't find out if he had a bite to eat. He was busy at the Cottons' and would be there all day. So, very slowly, Sam inched over to the chair being held out for him and cautiously sat down. Satisfied, Frodo moved around the table and took his seat.  
  
Frodo sipped his tea and took a piece of cheese from the plate in front of him. Sam poured himself a half of a cup of tea, and sipped it for a long time. After a few moments, Sam began to relax and took a piece of meat from the table. Looking up at Frodo, Sam caught his eye and saw happiness; pure happiness. He couldn't remember why he had been so skittish about all this. He had eaten lunch with Mr. Frodo and Mr. Bilbo almost everyday!  
  
Frodo noticed that Sam appeared less tense now, and actually seemed to be enjoying himself. Now this was the Sam that Frodo knew. They ate in relative silence until Frodo finally broke it with a rather hard question. The last question Sam had expected.  
  
"Sam? Did something happen yesterday? I mean, after you left Bag End?"  
  
No answer.  
  
"Sam? What happened?" Frodo demanded. Sam's eyes grew fearful. He quickly set down the apple he was about to bite into. "If anything happened, and I mean anything, you'd tell me, right?" Frodo left this as another question for Sam to answer.  
  
Again, no answer. Then, finally;  
  
"Yes, sir, Mr. Frodo. I would." Sam half mumbled. Frodo looked on; he could sense there was trouble. He let the awkward silence linger for a moment, before starting up again.  
  
"Fine, Sam. If you say everything's alright, then it will be no problem if I have a little talk with the Gaffer." Sam gasped. Frodo wouldn't! He couldn't! "Well?" Frodo asked. Sam was backed into a corner.  
  
"Sir, I...I..." Sam sputtered out.  
  
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!  
  
Frodo and Sam jumped from their seats simultaneously and looked franticly towards the round front door. There was only one person they knew that knocked like that.  
  
"Dad?!" Sam exclaimed. Frodo looked suspiciously at Sam. Maybe this was the answer.  
  
"Shall I answer it?" Frodo asked, standing from his chair. Sam panicked.  
  
"No! I got it, Mr. Frodo!" Sam leapt from his seat and rushed out of the kitchen. "Please! Just...just sit down, sir. It's no problem." He called over his shoulder before he reached the door. Looking back to make sure that Frodo was sitting back down, Sam took a deep breath and slowly opened Bag End's great, round door.  
  
TBC...

Note Please review! Input is always graciously accepted!


	5. Guilt

Note: Thanks to all who have reviewed! Please know that I am always happy to return the favor! For all you Sam fans out there; don't worry, our favorite Hobbit will prevail in the end! Happy writings and keep looking for updates!!

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Ch. 5  
  
"Samwise!" Hamfast Gamgee called from the other side of the door. Sam's hand jerked back from the door handle in surprise. Recovering his wits quickly, Sam pulled open the round door. The Gaffer stood in the door way, his large frame towering over the ever shrinking Sam who stood before him.  
  
"A...afternoon, Da." Sam greeted, stepping aside to allow his father to enter Bag End. Hamfast glanced down at his youngest son, as he securely closed the door behind him. "W...what are ya doin' here? I...I thought you was gonna be at the Cotton's all day?"  
  
"I was." The Gaffer answered, taking a step further into the front hall. "Thought I'd come by and see how you were doin' on your own." His forced smile disappeared. "Now I can see that it was a mistake leavin' you alone." Not knowing that Frodo was in the kitchen, listening to everything, Hamfast advanced on his son, backing him into a corner.  
  
"Da, I was...was just..." Sam sputtered out. He couldn't complete his sentence.  
  
"Ya were socializing again, weren't ya?" Hamfast demanded. Sam quivered.  
  
"No, Da! I was...was makin' lunch." Sam drew in a quick breath. "For...for Mr. Frodo." He added.  
  
"I'm sure." The Gaffer said, noticing a small piece of meat in the corner of Sam's mouth. "And this came from working in the garden, right?" Sam stared in horror as his father reached out and took the piece of dried meat from his lip.  
  
"Da, I was..." But he didn't get a chance to continue. The Gaffer leaned in close to Sam's face and spoke in a low, serious voice. He placed one of his large, work-worn hands on Sam's shaking shoulder.  
  
"Don't think we won't discuss this later." He threatened. With those final words, Hamfast straightened up, gave Sam a little push back wards and turned to leave.  
  
Frodo, who had been watching the whole thing from the safety of the kitchen, ducked back as the older hobbit passed by. Before exiting, the Gaffer turned back to Sam. Frodo held his breath.  
  
"For the last time, Samwise Gamgee; Master Frodo Baggins is your employer and you are in his service. Don't forget that." After one last glance, Hamfast Gamgee turned his back on his son and left Bag End.  
  
::  
  
Sam shook his head. He knew what kind of talk him and his father would have. A long lecture about how Sam needs to get his priorities in order and how socializing with his betters will never feed a family. He only hoped that he wasn't so upset that he would...would...  
  
::  
  
Frodo slowly walked back to the table and sat down. He had met Hamfast Gamgee over 13 years ago, when he first came to visit Bilbo here at Bag End. He was a gruff hobbit who always gave short, respectful answers. Though requested many times from Bilbo, Hamfast refused to call him anything but Mister or Sir, and taught his children the same. Frodo had always notice how he would come down so hard on Sam, though Sam was his youngest and most dedicated son.  
  
Sam's older brothers had gone off to live their own lives and raise their own families. His older sister, Daisy and May were off working their own jobs as seamstresses and Marigold was too young to work and stayed mainly at the Cottons', playing with their children. Sam was the only one who put all his heart into gardening and would one day, take over the gardening of Bag End.  
  
Frodo's heart felt heavy. Here he was, threatening Sam with talking to his Gaffer, who Frodo knew was already not pleased with the previous day's events and now he's in even more trouble! How could he say such things to his friend? A wave of guilt washed over him as he put his head down on the table. He felt so...so...  
  
"M...Mr. Frodo, sir?" A soft, gentle voice asked. Frodo's heart hurt again. He couldn't bring him self to raise his head. "Mr. Frodo? Are you alright sir?" A rough hand rested on his arm. It was shaking slightly. Frodo slowly lifted his head and looked up at his friend. Sam's face was still a bit pale and his shoulders were hunched forward in a sign of sadness or shame.  
  
"I'm fine, Sam." Frodo sighed. Sam looked worriedly at him.  
  
"I...I best be getting back to the garden sir, if that's alright?" Sam asked, knowing his father would be waiting outside for him to come out and get back to his chores. Frodo simply nodded. It took much for him to do that. Poor, dear Sam! He kept thinking to himself. His poor, dear Sam.  
  
"If you need anything, Mr. Frodo, I'll just be outside. I'll be back to make dinner later." Frodo nodded again as Sam slowly turned to leave.  
  
"Sam," Frodo suddenly called out. Sam whirled around and stared worriedly at his master. "Sam, I...I want to say...I'm sorry." Frodo whispered, raising his head from the safety of the table. His eyes were red and puffy again.  
  
"I...I don't understand, Mr. Frodo?" Sam said. If anyone should be apologizing, it should have been him.  
  
"I shouldn't have pushed you so hard. Take the rest of the day off if you wish. You've earned it." Sam was shocked. He couldn't understand what was going on with Frodo.  
  
"Thank you, sir." Sam said humbly, bowing his head to hide his pink cheeks. "I truly appreciate it but I have much work to do before the sun goes down."  
  
"As you wish, Sam." And with that, Frodo heaved himself up from the chair and walked out of the kitchen, towards his room. Sam watched him as he turned the corner and disappeared down one of the many passages of Bag End.  
  
Out in the garden, Sam's mind was only on one thing; what had bothered Frodo so much? He knew he was upset about his parents but his spirits had been lifted when they sat down for lunch. It wasn't until after his Gaffer had left that Frodo had gotten upset again. Could that have been it? Could Frodo have been upset about the Gaffer coming over? But Frodo hadn't seen the Gaffer. He had stayed in the kitchen the entire time...hadn't he?


	6. Plans

A/N: Finally! This darn writers block has been hanging on me for weeks! Now, it is gone and the ideas are back to their normal cycle.  
  
FrodoBaggins87: I know, poor Sam! I'm sorry to say, but as of now, things are not looking much better. But we all know that Sam has the heart to get through it, right?  
  
Tersa: Yes, I truly am evil... (Insert cheesy evil laughter). Thank you for the complement about the relationships. They seemed to be the most difficult things to write and I'm glad that you believe they are not being forced. That was my goal! Thanks for reading!  
  
Althea: Thank you! I'm glad you are enjoying it! Keep looking for updates!  
  
Nymredil72: You are quite correct when you assume there is going to be more. I am just getting over a writers block, so that put a delay on this chapter. I'm glad to hear that you like the side comments. I think that it is the small things like those that really make a good story into a great one. As for the grammar, I've never been very good at it, but thank you for pointing it out. Enjoy Ch. 6 and please keep in touch!  
  
Thank you to everyone who has R & R! A great Elf once said, "A craftsman is always proud to hear his work is appreciated." Ok, so maybe it wasn't an elf, but...well...yeah...you know I mean.  
  
Ch. 6  
  
Hamfast Gamgee waited outside the front gate of Bag End, watching for his son to emerge. He would give him 2 more minutes inside before he came in after him. Samwise, of anyone, should know better! Hadn't he been taught to respect his employers? And that it was NOT his job to entertain them? Sam had 1more minute to before... There he was. Coming out the back door and heading straight for the roses; his favorites.  
  
Hamfast sighed. He didn't like being so hard on Sam, especially since he was the only one of his children who have taken up gardening, to follow in his large footsteps. Also, unknown to anyone but him self and his late wife Bell, rest her soul, Sam had always been his favorite of his 6 children. His quiet, genuine nature had always gone straight to Hamfast's heart.  
  
Maybe that's why he was so tough on the lad. It was a well known fact in Hobbiton that Hamfast 'the Gaffer' Gamgee, was a rather stern and gruff hobbit. He was one who was always kind to neighbors and more then respectable to his elders and social betters. It was also known that he taught all of his children to do the same. Knowing this and seeing how his son acted with Mr. Frodo, the Gaffer couldn't help to lose his temper a bit with Sam.  
  
After making sure that Sam was back to work, Hamfast sighed again and began down the road to Number 3 Bag Shot Row. On his way there, he began to think; maybe a stern talking to wasn't what Sam needed. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if Sam didn't go back to Bag End for a while.  
  
::  
  
From his bedroom window, Frodo could see Sam tending to the roses. Oh, how he wished he could make up for all the trouble he's been causing. What about giving him the day off, to do whatever he wanted? No, he tried that already. Sam was too bound to his work to give it up for an entire day. Plus, what would the Gaffer say?  
  
The Gaffer. Maybe it was him who needed a day off. Perhaps he had been working so hard, that it's becoming too much for him at his age. With Sam's help, he could get the work done faster and have less strain on himself. And maybe that will make him happy; if Sam spent more time with him and less time around Bag End. Though Frodo would dearly miss Sam and Sam may not be pleased with the change, it seems this was all for the best.  
  
Besides, Bilbo _could _be back sooner then expected. And Bag End wasn't _that_ large that Frodo couldn't handle it's maintenance, alone. So Frodo decided then; tomorrow, he would talk to the Gaffer about the new arrangements.  
  
::  
  
Both of these decisions were being made regarding Sam and without his knowing. His mind was swimming with more then he could handle at the moment; Mr. Frodo being so upset and his father catching him inside Bag End. What should he do? It was strange, thought Sam again, thinking back on the day's events. What had upset Mr. Frodo so much? More memories of his parents? Something he had said?  
  
Wait a minute. Frodo was fine until the Gaffer arrived. After that, he became depressed again! That had to have been it. The Gaffer brought back memories of his own, late parents. Oh, Sam could only imagine how Frodo felt, having to live around so many families with happy children and caring parents.  
  
Now poor Sam was in a worse rut then before. He believed that he had figured out the reason for Frodo's depression, but the new problem was what to do about it. Sam wasn't very good at cheering people up, but he knew he had to do something for Mr. Frodo. If nothing else, he had to spend as much time around Bag End as possible so that Mr. Frodo was rarely lonely.

Thanks for keeping up with the story! We shall soon find out what Sam is going to do!


	7. Injured

A/N: Thank you everyone who has kept up with my story. I'm sorry it has taken me so long to update, but with a full time job, time to write is very scarce to come by.  
Anyway, I took some time off work and am visiting some family in Texas so I have been able to finish chapter 7 while I was here.  
I hope you enjoy and thanks again for reading!   
:: Aoura Maiden ::  
  
Ch. 7  
  
A few hours later, Sam brushed the loose dirt off his trousers and headed for Bag End. Standing outside the back door, he considered what to do; does he stay with Mr. Frodo and try to help him? Does he make dinner then leave? Does he just go home? Unsure of what his plan of action was, Sam decided to just go in and do what he could.  
  
"Mr. Frodo?" He called into the large smail. He voice echoed off the walls and soon faded away. There was no replay. "Mr. Frodo? Where are you?" Slowly weaving his way through the many passages, Sam finally stumbled upon his master. Frodo was at Bilbo's desk in the study; sound asleep with a quill still in his hand. Stacks of parchment lay scattered on the desk and a few on the floor. Most of it was written in elvish.  
  
Oh, how Sam wished he could read it. Nothing fascinated Sam more then Elves, everything about them was so mysterious and exciting. Bilbo had been teaching Frodo how to read, write and speak elvish and, in turn, Frodo promised to teach Sam.  
  
"But only if you're good." Frodo had said jokingly.  
  
"Oh, I will be, Mr. Frodo. I will be." Sam promised. Frodo laughed a truly heartfelt laugh at this. Sam missed that. He couldn't remember the last time he heard Frodo laugh like that.  
  
'Maybe I should wake him?' Sam thought as he looked back to his exhausted master. 'No, he needs his rest. He seems to have been loosing a lot of sleep lately.' So, rushing to the linen closet, Sam retrieved a blanket and, careful not to wake him, draped it over Frodo's shoulders.  
  
Just as he was about to leave to prepare dinner, one of the pieces of parchment caught his eye. At the top was written;  
  
_Dear Mr. Hamfast Gamgee,_  
  
What was Frodo doing writing to his father? Knowing in his heart it was wrong, curiosity over cam him and Sam slowly removed the letter from under part of Frodo's arm. Though he had not been studying his letters for a very long time, Sam was able to make out most of the note. It read;

_Dear Mr. Hamfast Gamgee,  
  
For years, you have cared for, not only Bag End and it's gardens, but also my Uncle Bilbo and I. Your service has always been greatly appreciated. Your son, Samwise, is a wonderful lad and a talented gardener. He has done a wonderful job and has served us very well. You should be proud of him.  
  
Yet, I believe that it is in everyone's best interest that Sam does not return to Bag End for a time. Please do not think that this is some sort of punishment since Sam has done nothing wrong to be punished for. I simply believe that it will be a benefit to all. Please consider this more of a vacation.  
  
Respectfully yours,  
  
Frodo Baggins.  
_Sam was in a state of shock. What did this mean? Why did Mr. Frodo not want him to return to Bag End? So many questions and so few answers. Replacing the letter on the desk, Sam left the study and headed for the kitchen to prepare dinner. The entire time he was cooking, his mind was even more clouded then it was before.  
  
Sometime later, after almost cutting his finger with a knife, Sam decided that he needed to focus his attention on his cooking before he burned the smail down! But it was so hard with the words from the letter reeling in his mind.  
  
"Sam?" Frodo's still tired voice came from the hallways. Sam spun around to face him but, unfortunately, was too enthusiastic about it and his left hand slammed right into the scalding skillet. Letting out a scream of shock and pain, Sam jumped back, causing the fried tomatoes to scatter on the floor.  
  
"Sam! What happened?" Frodo raced around the corner, the blanket flying behind him like a cape then floated to the ground as he released it from his grasp. Skidding to a halt, his gaze fell upon poor Sam, who was kneeling beside the kitchen table. His right hand was gripped around his left wrist and both were pulled tightly to his chest.  
  
"Sam! Are you alright?" Frodo dove onto the floor beside Sam and examined the situation. He gasped as he saw Sam's poor hand. The whole side of his hand, including his thumb, and part of the back of his hand was bright red and a few blisters could already been seen.  
  
"M...Mr. Frodo." Sam started between sobs. "I...I'm s...sorry."  
  
"Don't worry Sam. It's just some tomatoes. Here, let me help you up so we can do something about that burn." So, very carefully, Frodo helped Sam into the nearest chair and took his injured hand into his own. "There now, let's just rinse that and I'll wrap it up. Just let me get some fresh water from the pump." Frodo began to leave the kitchen when Sam jumped to his feet.  
  
"I'll get it, Mr. Frodo." He said, cringing from the throbbing, burning sensation coming from his hand.  
  
"Nonsense!" Frodo exclaimed, putting his hand on Sam's shoulder and attempting to return him to his seat. "You won't be able to do anything unless we get that hand fixed up."  
  
"But..."  
  
"No." And with that, Frodo rushed out of the kitchen and headed for the back door. A few minutes later Frodo returned, a bucket of cold water in one hand and a bundle of cloth and bandages piled in the other.  
  
"Mr. Frodo, let me..." Sam went to stand up to take some of the load from Frodo, but Frodo shoot him a warning look and Sam fell silent. Dipping a cloth into the bucket, Frodo carefully took Sam's injured hand and began cleaning it. Each time the icy cold water touched his now sensitive skin; Sam would gasp or cringe, attempting to control his desire to scream out.  
  
"I know Sam, I know." Frodo cooed as he cleansed the injury. "I'm almost done." Sam flinched as the bandages were tightened but he kept reminding himself that it would be over soon. Sure enough, the next thing Sam heard was Frodo's voice saying;  
  
"There you go. All done." Sam looked down and saw his hand was almost twice its normal size. He wouldn't be able to do any decent gardening in this condition. Oh no! Now the Gaffer would NEVER let Sam return to Bag End, even if Mr. Frodo ever decided he wanted him back!  
  
"Here, take this ointment and some extra bandages. Make sure you clean it twice a day. The ointment will help with the pain and reduce the amount of scaring." Sam slipped the ointment and bandages into his pocket. "Now you go home and rest that hand."  
  
"But what about your dinner, Mr. Frodo. I've ruined it."  
  
"Don't worry about that, Sam. There's no use crying over spilt tomatoes."  
  
"At least let me make you somthin' else." Sam begged. Frodo looked at the gardener and smiled. Samwise Gamgee was one of the most dedicated and persistent hobbits in the entire Shire.  
  
"Sam, you really need to rest that hand of yours. I'll be fine." Frodo reassured him. Still Sam refused to leave. "Sam, you'll be of no help here if you injure yourself again." Frodo said a bit more sternly. "Just go home, Sam." These words, though meant with good intentions, felt like a blade in Sam's heart. He felt defeated and lowly at the moment.  
  
"Yes sir." Sam finally answered, turning from Frodo so he could not see the tears welling up in his eyes.  
  
"Oh Sam, before you leave, I have something for your father. Wait her just one second." Frodo quickly left the kitchen and headed straight for the study. Sam's heart stopped. The letter. He had hoped Frodo had forgotten about it, but it seemed he had remembered it all along.  
  
The time ticked by slowly. What could be taking him so long to simply retrieve the letter from the desk? It seemed an eternity before Frodo returned, holding the letter in his hand. What Sam didn't notice was that this letter was written on a completely different colored parchment then the one he had found in the study.  
  
"Give this to your father." Frodo instructed. Sam nodded and, with a slightly shaking hand, took the unsealed parchment. "Now you just head home," Frodo said, ushering Sam to the front door, "and I don't want to see you back in that garden until that hand of yours is healed. Understood?"  
  
"Yes sir," Sam said obediently and passed out the door and walked down the path to the gate. He took one last look at Bag End before starting the walk home. The round green door, that was always so inviting, now seemed to have 'no entry' signs on it.  
  
As he walked home, Frodo's final words echoed in his mind. Again, they were like daggers. And Sam had always thought Mr. Frodo liked him. He thought they were friends. How wrong he was.  
  
A/N: Poor Sam. I don't like hurting him but it almost seemed necessary. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please look for more updates! 


	8. Notes

A/N: I'm so sorry it's taken so long for this chapter! I just moved and it's been crazy around here. I almost lost everything during the move and I've been off my computer for so long I thought I was going through withdrawal.

I hope the story is living up to everyone's expectations. Please know that if you have any suggestions for what direction to take this story, I am more then happy to consider them. From one writer to another, there is nothing more helpful then an outside point of view.

Frodo's Sister: Thanks for reading. I'm glad you're enjoying it and I will keep updating it as long as people keep reading it.

Merry lad: Yay! More fans! Thanks for saying that the story 'rox'! Now the question is...What does the letter to the Gaffer say? Read and you shall find out

Ch. 8

Frodo watched Sam as he walked down the path from the front door, securely closed the gate behind him, as always, and started home to Bag Shoot Row. Leaning heavily against the wall, he rubbed his temples. His head had been pounding for almost 2 days now, and nothing seemed to help it.

Back in the kitchen, Frodo began to clean up the fried tomatoes that still littered the floor. They would have made a very good dinner. Sam was an excellent cook as well as excellent company. What had caused Sam to become so nervous and jumpy? It was true that Sam was known to be a bit clumsy, but he had never injured himself before. Especially not while in the kitchen. Something must be wrong.

The clock in the study chimed the 8th hour and Frodo, after all that had happened, felt exhausted. Without Bilbo around, Frodo had no one to talk to, like he did most nights before he went to bed. So he decided to get one of his favorite books and catch up on some reading. 'The first thing in the morning, though,' Frodo said to himself, 'I'm going to find out what's wrong with Sam.'

::

Before he knew it, Sam was standing outside the door to #3 Bag Shoot Row; his home. Just beyond that that door, he would have to face his father and the contents of the note that he now held in a clenched fist. Taking a few deep, calming breaths, Sam slowly opened the door and entered.

To his relief, his father was in a good mood. Something must have happened after he had left Bag End that made him so happy.

"Sam, lad," the Gaffer announced as Sam stepped into the living room, "it's your lucky day."

"Why, Da?" Sam asked as he quickly hid his injured hand behind his back before his father could question him about it.

"Well, after the 'incident' this afternoon, I was plannin' to speak with Mr. Frodo." Sam drew in a quick breath. Oh no. This just made things even worse. "I was goin' to ask him if he could spare you for a while. I thought you were spending too much time up there." Sam's eyes were nearly filled with tears. Mr. Frodo's letter said the same thing.

"But then a strange thing happened." The Gaffer continued. Sam looked up in anticipation. "When I was down in the market, I ran into Ted Sandyman. We got to talkn' about Mr. Frodo up at Bag End and Ted heard from Fatty who heard from some relative of his, that Mr. Merry Brandybuck and Mr. Pippin Took are gonna be visitin' Mr. Frodo next week." Sam stared at his father in disbelief. 'What does all this have to do with him?' he thought to himself.

"Then I started thinkin'," he continued, "with Mr. Bilbo gone, Mr. Frodo's goin' to be needin' an extra set of hands. Ya know what they say about those Brandybucks and Tooks. Who knows what they might be plannin'!" Sam knew his father didn't think very highly of the Brandybucks or Tooks. That's why he was always a little suspicious of Frodo, since he was over half Brandybuck.

"I don't have the patience to deal with them, and since I have so much work to do otherwise, I've decided that it would be best if you stayed up at Bag End until they've gone." Sam was in a state of shock. Everything had just done a complete turn around! Though, in his excitement, he had completely forgotten the letter from Mr. Frodo and his injury. That is, he forgot about them until his father reminded him.

"Samwise, what in Middle Earth happened?" Sam's injured hand had slipped into view.

"I...I burned myself, Da, while I was makin' dinner for Mr. Frodo." Sam knew he would get it now.

"And this?" The Gaffer asked, taking Frodo's note from Sam's grasp. Sam's heart stopped. This was going to change everything, again!

"It...it's a note, from Mr. Frodo." Sam answered quietly, not being able to look his father in the eye. Hamfast unfolded the parchment and took a long look at it. He then handed it back to Sam, who stood looking horrified.

"What's it say, lad?" He asked. Sam looked up at his father again. He had forgotten that he could read. It was something Hamfast was a bit ashamed of; that his son could read and he could not, but he would never admit it. So with a shaky hand, he took the paper, turned it over and began to read it aloud.

_Dear Mr. Hamfast Gamgee,_

_I would just like to write to you saying what I have been feeling for quite a few years now. Your son, Samwise, is a wonderful lad, talented gardener and the best friend any hobbit could ask for. _

_After my parents died and I came to live with Uncle Bilbo, I thought I never could be happy again. That is, until, I met young Sam. He always knew what to say to make me smile and forget my pain. I am lucky to know such an honorable and caring hobbit as your son. You should be proud of him._

_If it is not too much to ask, I would greatly appreciate it if Sam could spend this week here at Bag End. With Bilbo gone, it will be difficult for me to take care of everything on my own. Thank you greatly._

_Respectfully yours always,_

_Frodo Baggins_

Sam didn't know what to do. The letter had changed! Mr. Frodo didn't want to get rid of him after all.

"Well lad, I guess that settles it," Hamfast said as he headed to the kitchen to make tea. "Starting tomorrow, until Mr. Bilbo returns, you'll be stayin' up at Bag End to be helpin' Mr. Frodo."

"Ye...yes, Da." Sam stuttered out. He was speechless otherwise. Did Mr. Frodo really mean all those things he said in the letter? He must have, otherwise, why would he write it? Honorable? Caring? Was he really all those things?

"Ya better get your stuff ready," Hamfast said, interrupting Sam's thoughts.

"Alright, Da," Sam said quickly be for heading off to his room.

"Samwise!" Hamfast called after his son as he took off down the hallway. Sam stopped dead in his tracks and slowly walked back to the kitchen. 'Now what?' he asked himself.

"Yeah, Da?" He asked, hoping he wasn't about to change his mind.

"I just wanted to say, I'm proud of ya." Hamfast said. For the first time since his mother passed away, Sam heard true feeling in his father's voice.

"Thanks, Da." Sam said gratefully before heading back to his room.

TBC


End file.
